


Donuts and Do-Nots

by knowyourrights



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Homophobia, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Punk, idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowyourrights/pseuds/knowyourrights
Summary: Harry's 99.99% sure he's not gay, but when he thinks about Draco sweating, that number begins to deteriorate.Disclaimer: this is my first fanfiction please don't judge me





	1. Things A Malfoy Should Never Do

Harry dreamt about everything. He dreamt about God and the Devil and tight clothes and ice-cream sundaes. He dreamt about everything in between. Harry dreamt about- 

"You fucktard!"

Harry did not dream about fucktards. 

His eyes fluttered open, only to be met with icy blue ones inches from his face. The boy was whisper shouting at him. 

"Wake the fuck up!" 

Harry sat up and yawned, then looks over at his friend, who was clearly pissed. 

"Whoops, looks like I dozed off again. Luckily, and with you being the great friend you are, you'll forgive me." Harry offered. 

Draco was still pissed, but not actually pissed. Draco could never be actually pissed at Harry. 

"I've been sitting here, writing an essay about magic in the fucking Middle Ages, while you've been dreaming about gay leprechauns or whatever-" 

"I wasn't dreaming about you, Draco, don't be so silly."

Draco looked so unamused, that Harry couldn't contain his giggles. A smile cracked in Draco's face and he let out a chuckle. 

"You're the queer here, Potter." He teased. 

"Nah, everyone knows Malfoys are notorious for being a bit gay." Harry said, before turning on the radio that sat on the table along with all of their books and quills. It was beat up and didn't exactly run smoothly, but it was enough for them. When Harry had stumbled upon it in a second-hand store during the summer of his third year, he couldn't resist the thought of bringing it back to Draco. The difficulty of stowing it away in his trunk along with a stack of CDs was worth it when he saw the shock and fascination on Draco's face.  
The CD that happened to be in the radio at that moment was Combat Rock by The Clash. Harry hummed along and put his (absolutely not allowed, Mr. Potter) Doctor Marten shoes onto a nearby chair, as he got back to his essay- the one he'd been writing before he fell asleep.  
After about half an hour of scribbling out words, Harry looked up at Draco. The moonlight that slipped in through the windows cast shadows on the boy's pale face. Wisps of white-blond hair framed his featured, and his sunken in eyes were light blue. Everything about the Slytherin was pale, like he was permanently bathed in a white light. He was really quite beautiful. 

"One day," Harry started, "I'm gonna take you to a gig. Maybe Pearl Jam, or The Ramones."

Harry imagined his friend, tall and thin and graceful, moving between hot and tired, but energetic, bodies. He imagined the sweat shining on him in a spotlight, and Draco tossing his damp hair around with passion. Harry imagined the beautiful smile on his face as he screamed lyrics, his voice hoarse and husky. 

It made Harry horny. 

He wondered if that made him gay. 

"Nah, I'm more of a Nirvana guy." Draco replied, looking thoughtful. "Plus, we'd get totally expelled if we ran away to go see a muggle gig." 

Harry sighed, and glanced at his wristwatch. 

"It's two am." He announced, beginning to pack away his essay, which he'd only just managed to struggle through the first paragraph of. Draco, meanwhile, was on his third page. 

They left separately, with Harry slipping through the most unused corridors to get back to the Gryffindor dorms, and Draco creeping back down into the dungeons. 

As Harry lay in bed that night, listening to Seamus snoring so hard Harry was surprised he was still breathing; he continued to wonder if he was a queer. He didn't think that he was gay, but maybe he was wrong. 

Maybe he really was a queer. 

He didn't want to be one. 

*** 

When Harry tumbled into breakfast the next morning, groggy from sleep deprivation, he headed straight for his usually table. Hermione, Seamus, Ron, Pansy and Tracey were all slumped over in their chairs, clearly exhausted. Even Hermione, who could write an essay in her sleep, was yawning.  
Draco was sitting at the corner; the only one of Harry's friends that didn't seem to be on the verge of death, and was biting into a piece of toast.  
When Harry practically threw himself down beside the blond, the only words that seemed to escape his mouth were: "Donut... Coffee... Now... Please..." Draco tutted but placed a pink frosted donut onto Harry's plate anyway. From the moment his lips touched the creamy icing, he was awake.  
"I still have no idea how you can eat that in the morning." Muttered Hermione, sipping at her tea.  
The thing about Harry was that he had a sweet tooth. A serious sweet tooth. He ate ice cream and toffee and chocolate and cheesecake until he was gagging, but he loved it. Sugar was his favorite thing on earth, maybe excluding The Ramones and Draco Malfoy.  
Although out of all of the sweets he ate, the one he wouldn't be able to live without was donuts. Harry would drool just thinking about them.  
He shrugged at Hermione.  
"Hey guys," Draco interrupted, holding up a magazine. The glossy page was a photo of some guitarist, with bleach blond hair with a red strip in it. "D'ya think I should spell my hair like this?"  
"You don't know any color-changing spells, genius." Said Pansy, elbowing Seamus, who seemed to have fallen asleep with his head in his cereal bowl.  
"I know I don't, but guess who does." Draco rested his elbows on the table and turned towards Hermione. Before he could even say anything, her answer came out.  
"No way, Draco."  
"But why?" Draco moaned.  
Hermione sighed and looked up at her friend, raising her eyebrows like it was the most obvious answer in the world.  
"It's completely against the rules."  
"Ugh." Draco slumped in defeat. Hermione was stubborn, and there was no way she would ever change her mind about it.  
"I'll help you with it!" Said Seamus, fringe still wet with milk.  
Ron turned to the Irish. "Seamus, no offence, but you have a tendency to set things on fire. What would Daddy Malfoy do if he found out Draco had a bald patch at fifteen?"  
Seamus nodded, as though to say fair enough.  
"Why are you guys so tired anyway?" Harry gestured to the rest of his friends, excluding Draco. "Aren't you meant to be all bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed and shit?"  
They all turned to glare at Tracey and Pansy.  
"They thought it would be just a fantastic idea to try to enchant Flitwick's chalk. We were up all night running around trying to avoid getting caught. Y'know, very Breakfast Club style." Explained Hermione. Seamus and Harry laughed at the muggle reference, but the others just seemed confused.  
"Anyway," said Draco, which one of you is gonna help me?" He handed the magazine to Tracey.  
"Harry?" He pleaded. His puppy dog eyes were hard to resist.  
"I think," Tracey decided, after careful consideration, "That this is a photo of a woman." She held up the magazine for the others to see. Various oohs, ahs, and I see it now’s sounded across the table.  
"Well congrats to Dracanna on her new 'do." Ron gave a slight bow.  
"It'll really bring out your eyes." Harry joked.  
The Slytherin boy murmured, "Shut up, losers." Before playfully attempting to hit his friends.  
Harry ate his donut. 

***

"Oh my god. Oh my fucking god."  
Harry tried desperately to contain the laughter that threatened to spill out of his mouth. He took a bite out of his cupcake.  
Draco continued to look into the bathroom mirror in horror.  
There was something about the expression on the Slytherin's face that made Harry lose it. He collapsed, screeching in laughter. He was as red as his tie. Tears streamed out of his eyes, and his whole body was shaking.  
"There is nothing funny about this, Harry." Draco said, with faux anger.  
"Your hair..." Harry wheezed, "Looks like ice cream!" He exploded with laughter again.  
Harry wasn't actually wrong. In an attempt to spell a red streak into Draco's blond locks, the boys had managed to instead spell multiple streaks bright pink, and made them swirl together. Draco's head really did look a lot like a strawberry and vanilla ice cream.  
Draco huffed. He wanted to be angry, he truly did, but Harry's maniacal laughter lightened the mood quite a bit.  
"Hey, don't be a dick about it."  
Harry just laughed harder.  
"Hey!" Suddenly, Draco tackled the Gryffindor, and they tumbled onto the floor. Harry stopped laughing. This was the sort of play fighting they'd done in their first year, before they'd started to grow out of it. Wrestling Draco was different now. When they were 11, they'd been about the same height and weight, and Harry had been only slightly stronger. Now, Draco's spindly limbs and skinny frame gave him an advantage. He was stronger now, too. Eventually, Draco had Harry pinned directly beneath him, a smug smile on his face.  
Harry looked up at the boy above him, and tried desperately to ignore Draco's thigh pressed against his dick.  
"Hah, look who's laughing now, Potter!" Draco said, clearly proud of himself.  
"Get off me, you git!" Harry struggled against Draco in vain. The Slytherin had Harry's hands pinned above his head, and was sprawled onto him.  
Draco brought his face close enough to the Gryffindor's for Harry to feel his breath on his face. Draco's eyes, cool and icy, were fixed on him.  
"Now, Draco, what would Daddy Malfoy think about this?" As soon as the words left Harry's mouth, the taller boy's expression changed. He raised his eyebrows, like he was challenging the younger boy. Although he looked confident, Harry could have sworn he saw a glint of fear, or guilt, flickering in hose blue eyes. Harry frowned. He hadn't meant to upset his friend; this was just the sort of thing they joked about. Harry didn't have time to think though; he took advantage of Draco's moment of weakness to push the Slytherin onto his back, meaning Harry now had the upper hand.  
"You're a queer." Draco said, blatantly.  
"Am not."  
"Are too."  
"How would you know?"  
"The whole school knows by now, Potter."  
Harry bit his lip, taking in Draco's features. His cheekbones were defined and sharp, like he was made from marble.  
Harry prayed to just about every god he could think of that Draco wouldn't notice Harry's slowly hardening dick pressed into his thigh.  
"Get off me, Malfoy." He spat, his voice cracking slightly. 

As they dusted themselves off and Harry promised to fix Draco's hair, Draco's mind was swimming. On the outside, he was just as sarcastic and witty as usual, but his brain hurt. Draco knew that he loved by different rules to his friends. He was a Malfoy. He had a legacy, and a reputation to uphold.  
Because, from a very young age, Draco was made very aware of things a Malfoy should never do. Although he thought that most of these rules were bullshit, he couldn't help but hear them in the back of his mind whenever he broke one.  
A Malfoy should never be a poor man.  
A Malfoy should never love a mudblood.  
A Malfoy should never fail a test.  
A Malfoy should never be a homosexual. 

 

Sometimes, when Draco wanked off, he thought about boys. There was nothing wrong with it; it was just a normal thing that he did. He wasn't gay, he really wasn't. He just found something about watching them so enchanting. Girls were hot, there was no denying that, but there was something about boys. The way they rolled their sleeves up, exposing muscled arms, and the way they looked when they concentrated.  
Girls were gorgeous, but boys were interesting. If Draco were to analyze his psyche, he'd realize that he was attracted to the taboo of liking boys. He was in love with the wrongness of it. Of course, if his friends knew, he'd never hear the end of it. They weren't homophobic, per say, but throwing the term "gay" around was the base of many of their playful insults.  
When Draco had first started wanking, at 12, he'd been terrified of those thoughts. Sometimes, between the pages of a playboy he'd found in Seamus' wardrobe, and images of Kate Moss, he'd think about guys. Not on purpose, of course. He'd started to think about boys in a way he didn't think he could.  
And that was that.  
What worried him, however, was that he'd started to think about Gryffindor robes and green eyes.  
He'd push them out of his mind, letting blondes with big boobs back into the center of his attention, but when he came, they always returned. Scruffy black hair and smirks took over whenever Draco lost control.  
Oh God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i wrote these several thousand words, i was in the process of consuming an entire big pack of Tic Tacs (quietly, so i didn't get in trouble because this was at an unholy hour)  
> and i was thinking about that one episode of the simpsons when Homer has narcolepsy and blames everything on it. like homer was such an asshole why did he still have a wife and friends and stff.  
> also, in science, i think i might have accidentally eaten some concentrated citric acid.  
> and my foot went numb when i was trying to stand up so i squashed some poor girl by just falling.
> 
> so then i wrote this.
> 
> and im not really sure why.


	2. Who Needs Photos Anyway?

Draco turned the shower off, standing, breathing deeply in the steam before stepping out. The cold air of the bathroom but into his skin, but he managed to drag himself to his dorm room.  
The moment he swung the door open, he regretted it. Zabini and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, were sifting through his drawers.  
“Hey! Hands off my shit!” Draco scowled, attempting to push the boys away from his belongings while simultaneously trying to keep his towel up, and failing miserably at both.  
Zabini turned around, looking at Draco like he was a dead mouse.  
“And who’s gonna stop us?” He snarled.  
Draco was tall, and pretty strong, considering his skinny frame, but Zabini was a six foot tall wall of muscle, not to mention his minions, who were dumb as rocks, but also strong.  
“Hey Malfoy, wouldn’t mind us borrowing this, would you?” He held up Draco’s camera. It was as old and beat up as Harry’s radio, but he loved it. The Gryfindor had given it to him the previous Christmas Eve, along with a pile of film.  
“Don’t you fucking dare touch that.” Draco spat, but it was futile.  
“Don’t be a fag about it, assfucker.” Zabini grinned.  
“Nah, he’s the one getting fucked, right?” Goyle smirked. “How’s Potter’s dick?”  
“You’d want to know, wouldn’t you? Now give it!” Draco dived at the camera, in vain.  
“Or what? Your boyfriend gonna beat us up?” Zabini raised his eyebrows. Then, he grabbed the camera from Crabbe, and went to town.  
The lens shattered.  
Everything shattered.  
Zabini and the others pushed past Draco and left the room, and Draco dropped to his knees in front of his camera. He picked it up carefully, to inspect the damage, and glass stuck in his hand. He hissed, and looked gingerly at his palm. A big shard of glass was embedded into it, blood trickling down his wrist and onto his white towel. Wincing, he began to tug the shard out of his skin, although it felt like he was only driving it in deeper. When he finally succeeded, he looked back at his hand which looked like something out of a horror movie. It made him gag. Clots of dark blood oozed out, and his whole arm was practically white. The cut was deep.  
Draco threw up.  
Right there, on the dusty wooden floors of his dorm.  
He sat, wiping vomit from his chin, and dry heaving, for what felt like hours.  
“Hey, breakfast’s almost over, where the hell have you-“the voice stopped abruptly and Draco heard a gasp.  
“Oh my God.”  
Pansy was standing in the doorway, clearly shaken. Her eyes were glassy, like tears were threatening to slip out. She slowly sunk to the ground beside him, biting her lip.  
Before she could say anything, Draco spoke.  
“You can’t tell anyone. “  
“Are you crazy? Please don’t say it was Zabini again. We need to get you healed, we need to-“ Pansy rambled, clearly nervous.  
“You can’t tell anyone.”  
“Draco, we don’t know any healing spells. If not Madame Pomfrey, Hermione.”  
“Please don’t tell anyone.” Draco’s voice cracked. He felt his vision blur as a film of tears appeared over his eyes, before slowly weaving down his cheeks. “Please don’t-“ He let out a heavy sob.  
“Sh, sh. It’s okay.” Pansy, automatically leant into her friend, wrapping her shaking arms around him. She didn’t care that vomit and blood would stain her new robes.  
As Pansy wrapped a bandage around Draco’s hand, and cleaned the vomit off of him, he finally spoke.  
“They smashed my camera.”  
“Who needs photos anyway?”  
Draco nodded.

***  
Pansy kept her promise. Even when Hermione gave them panicked looks when she spotted Draco’s poorly wrapped hand. Even when Zabini would crack up whenever he passed Draco in the hallway. Even when Harry looked at him with worried green eyes. Pansy didn’t say a single word to anyone.  
Draco had almost gotten away with it, or at least he thought so. It was too good to be true, he realized when Hermione cornered him in the hallway.  
“Draco, what’s happened?” She said, serious and solemn,  
“Nothing. I swear, I just fell.” Draco tried desperately to avoid her penetrating gaze.  
“Fell onto what? Let me see.” She reached for his injured hand only for him to shove it behind his back and out of reach.  
“Hermione-“  
“Draco! For god’s sake, why can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Hermione’s eyes were glassy. Draco could tell that he was upsetting her, but he couldn’t say. Telling people would only make him into more of a victim for people like Zabini.  
“Please, Hermione.” Draco pleaded with his friend.  
She just sighed and stomped off, wiping her eyes. Draco wanted nothing more than to run after Hermione, apologizing and telling her everything that had happened.  
He sped off to potions.

***  
Draco dumped his bag down, and threw himself onto the ground. He was sitting under a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest on his own. His friends, even though they meant well, wouldn’t stop asking him what had happened to his hand. He carefully lifted a small drawstring pouch out of his school satchel, and emptied it out before him. The remains of his beloved camera sat at his feet; nothing more than shards of metal and glass.  
He pulled his wand out of his pocket and raised it.  
“Repairo!”  
The pile shuddered, began to spark, and then stopped and crumpled again.  
“Fuck.” Draco hissed and threw his wand onto the floor in frustration.  
How could he have thought it would work? He could fix a broken vase, or a rip in a shirt, but there was no way in hell he could spell a camera back together.  
“How can you expect that to work?”  
Draco looked up, surprised.  
A girl, a head shorter than him, with long, dirty blond hair, and dreamy grey eyes, stood in front of him. A Ravenclaw tie hung loosely from her collar, and Draco couldn’t help but notice the paperclip attached to her earlobe in place of an earring.  
“Who are you?” He asked. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t find a name to match her face.  
“Luna Lovegood. Look, if you want to fix this, you need to take a different approach.” She sat down cross legged opposite to him.  
Loony Lovegood. That was who she was. Draco knew that she was known for being a little off her rocker, and it was pretty clear from her appearance.  
“How do you do it then?” Draco sighed and leant against the tree.  
Luna carefully pulled her wand out from behind her left ear, and began to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes, almost like she was meditating.  
“What are you-“  
“Sh.” She interrupted, before delicately flicking her wand at the camera. “Repairo!”  
Draco watched in awe as the remains of his camera floated towards each other and began to meld back together.  
“How the hell did you do that?”  
Luna opened her grey eyes and gave a sweet smile. “You were trying to fix it with anger. You need to use happiness.   
That’s the only way you’ll fix it.”  
Looney lived up to her reputation.  
“Draco Malfoy.” He held out his hand.   
She shook it, saying. “Luna Lovegood, but you already knew that.”  
And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think that my best friend in the whole world is called carla.   
> one time, we were talking, and i realized that carla had other friends, and our lives did not solely revolve around each other.  
> and she said “you aren’t the only person in my life, you emotionally incoherent waterbottle.”  
> and i knew exactly what she meant.


	3. The Singing Caterpillar

Harry threw himself onto the chair next to Draco in the library, as well as a large stack of books that he was dreading reading.  
“This is ridiculous. Why on earth do we need to know about,” He held up a thick, dusty book, “Gnomes and Their Powers: Seeing Into The Future”  
“Why would we not, is the question.” Draco smirked as Harry let out a frustrated sigh.  
“Well, it’s easy for people like you and Hermione,” Draco bit his lip at the mention of Hermione, remembering how upset she’d been when he’d snapped at her in the hallway, “The rest of us are totally hopeless.” He continued.  
“Hey, you’re not hopeless.” Draco argued.  
“My D in charms disagrees.”  
Before Draco could respond, assuring Harry that it was just because Professor Flitwick was still bitter about the time Harry had asked him if his penis was to scale with the rest of his body in their second year, a familiar looking blonde sat down.  
“Hello Draco, hello stranger.” Luna said, giving a big smile. A pile of books that looked a feather away from toppling over levitated beside her, nearly reaching the ceiling.  
Harry glanced at Draco, as though he was asking, ‘do you have an idea who this chick is?’  
“Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter.” Draco gestured distractedly to the two.  
“Oh. Is that Gnomes and Their Powers?” Luna looked over at the book that sat before Harry. “It’s a great read. The author also wrote another one of my favorites, A Study In Dancing Centaurs.”  
Harry blinked. “Ohhhh, I know who you are now. Looney Love-“  
“So how have you been, Luna.” Draco cut off his friend before he could finish.  
“Rather well, actually. I have something to give you.”  
Harry and Draco watched in both disbelief and curiosity as Luna proceeded to dig a watch with three hands, a long pink feather, and what appeared to be a live lizard out of her robe pockets. After pulling out a few mother odd things, she eventually revealed two pieces of slightly crumpled pink paper and handed one to each of the boys.  
“They’re flyers,” She explained, “For a charity event to support the family of The Singing Caterpillar who passed away recently. Do you think you’ll be able to attend?”  
“Um, we’ll see if we can.” Draco offered,  
“Okay then. Goodbye Harry and Draco.” Luna walked away dreamily, her stack of books teetering after her.  
Harry and Draco looked at each other for a bit, unsure of what to say.  
“Well she seems…” Harry started.  
“A little crazy.”  
“Absolutely fucking mental.”  
“Hey, what’s wrong with that?” Draco frowned.  
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that. I like her.” Harry gave a slightly wicked grin. “But, please don’t tell me we’re going to that.”  
Draco sighed. “But what if no one turns up?”  
“The singing bug’s family dies, big whoop.” Harry said bluntly.  
“You don’t think it’s and actual caterpillar, do you?”  
“I really wouldn’t be too shocked.”

***

So that night, when Draco was tossing and turning in bed, desperately trying to get some sleep, Harry’s words replayed in his head relentlessly. Harry liked Luna. That didn’t matter, really, but what did matter was if Harry really liked Luna. Like, ‘making out behind the Quidditch stands’ liked Luna. The thought made him more than a little sick, and also slightly aroused.

Although, what really mattered more than anything else, was why it made Draco feel sick.

Why did he care?

***

So it turned out that the singing caterpillar was an actual caterpillar. It made an odd humming sound that could almost be singing if you used a lot of imagination and significantly worsened your hearing.

The selection of people at this event included Harry and Draco, along with Ron and Hermione who’d they’d somehow convinced to join them, a first year Hufflepuff girl in tears, a sixth-year Slytherin boy with an eye patch, and, of course, Luna. They were standing around a tape recorder, which was playing the caterpillar’s ‘singing’, while three smaller caterpillars and one in a cocoon sat on a tree stump.

As the recording finished, Luna took a piece of paper out of her pocket and began to speak.  
“I would like to say a few words. The singing caterpillar, Raymond, will truly be missed. He graced us all with his talents, and I can’t be more grateful. I’m sure I speak for everyone else on that, too. However, because of his passing, his family will find it difficult to support themselves. It would really help them if on your way out, you could leave some money.”

As they left, the others thanked Luna, while Harry half-heartedly dropped a few sickles in front of the caterpillars, even though he was sure one of the small ones was giving him the evil eye.

“So.” Ron said, as they sat in the cafeteria.  
“Why did you invite us to that again?” Hermione asked.  
They all burst out laughing.  
“I cannot believe…” Draco wheezed, “That I just witnessed that!”  
“I can die now, my life is complete!” Ron managed to say.  
As they all laughed hysterically, Harry watched Draco, tears streaming out of his icy blue eyes, face red. He got this warm feeling welling up inside of him; this sort of happiness, as he thought about the beauty in watching Draco in hysterics. Draco was completely unaware of his best friend watching him of course, but if he had been, he would have lost it thinking about the perfection in Harry’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think that something very important to remember is that a lot of people are going to try to make you believe a lot of things.  
> and a lot of people are going to look at you funny for a long time, mostly.  
> and one day you will realize why they were looking at you like that.  
> so don’t take it personally when they do
> 
> but that’s just me.


	4. What Draco Learnt About Fear

Draco pulled Harry closer to him, moaning at the electricity that seemed to appear in the friction between their skin. He felt soft lips pressing into his neck, and gave a short gasp as he felt Harry’s fingers wrapping around his-

Draco woke up.

Fuck.

***

Draco didn’t talk about it. Of course he didn’t. Talking about it would mean thinking about it, and Draco really didn’t want to think about it. Eventually, of course, it came up.  
Draco balanced a cigarette between his lips and tossed one to Harry.  
“Hey Harry?” Draco turned to face his friend.  
“Yeah.” Harry lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter to Draco. They could have easily used magic to light the fags, but it just didn’t feel the same.  
“Do you ever think about boys?”  
Harry paused before giving Draco an odd look. “What do you mean?   
“Y’know when Beatrice King in seventh year dressed up like a sexy cat for Halloween? Like that.” Draco hoped he’d be able to get his point across without outright saying it.  
“Like… In a sexy way?” Harry frowned.  
Draco nodded and looked away. He took a drag of his cigarette.   
Harry was silent for a minute.   
“Everyone has, haven’t they?” He eventually said.  
“I guess so.”  
“It’s just experimenting.”  
“Just experimenting.”  
“Perfectly normal.”  
“Happens to everyone.”  
They both took a drag.  
The only issue was that the boys sounded more like they were trying to convince themselves rather than each other.

***

“Okay, I think I’ve fixed it.” Hermione took a step back from Draco, and the others all turned to look at him.  
“Just when I was starting to like it.” Seamus said, shaking his head.  
Draco looked into the mirror above the sink, admiring his hair- which was back to white-blond.  
“So what color are you gonna do next?” Tracey asked, picking the dirt out from under her nails.  
“I’m always up for giving you a green afro next time.” Harry raised his hand, as Hermione gave him a stern look.  
“Why’d you spell it back anyway?” Pansy stood on the edge of the circle, looking moody. “I thought you looked great.”  
Draco gave her a strange look, wondering why she was acting so angry. “What’s up with you?”  
“Nothing, okay? I’m late for divination.” She grabbed her satchel and sped out of the bathroom, hearing “Pansy, divination’s not for ten minutes!” and “Why’s she acting so weird?” As she left.  
She ran through the hallways, crashing into and shouting at first years as she went. Eventually she found a dark broom closet, and locked herself into it, throwing her bag onto the floor.  
Pansy felt like shit.   
All she’d been trying to do, since she’d first spoken to Draco, was to get him to like her. All she’d wanted was to get his attention, but Harry was all he seemed to care about. Of course, Harry was her friend, but she got so jealous of him.   
Pansy started to cry, sobbing quietly in the darkness of the closet.  
She didn’t go to divination.

***

25th December, 1994

“No, no, no, Hermione’s gonna dump him. I feel sorry for the poor guy.” Pansy shook her head.  
The music from the great hall was audible even from the bushes on the outside of the castle. Inside, the Yule Ball was going on, meanwhile Draco and Pansy were sitting in a bush, sharing a bottle of firewhisky. Draco had asked Pansy to the ball, but after the first fifteen minutes, Draco got bored of seeing his friends dancing together and drinking punch. He got sick of seeing Harry laughing with his arms around Tracey’s waist. Pansy pretended to be bored too and was more than willing to ditch and join him.  
“This sucks. Who even finds stuff like this fun?” Draco said, voice slurred. He rested his head on Pansy’s shoulder and her heart went into overdrive.  
“Losers.” She said.  
“Hey Pansy?” Draco said.  
“Yeah.”  
“Do you think Harry really likes Tracey?” He asked.  
Pansy had to construct her answer very carefully. Saying yes would upset him, probably, but saying no would encourage him to keep chasing Harry. Pansy knew that Draco liked Harry, even though he didn’t. It was obvious to her; it had always been.  
“I don’t know.” She decided on.   
“Do you think Tracey really likes him?”  
Pansy was sick of questions.  
“I don’t know.” She repeated.  
“What do you know then, Pansy?” Draco snapped.  
Pansy pushed him off of her, folding her arms.  
“I’m sorry. I’m just pissed off about everything, y’know?”  
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”  
Draco had no idea how much Pansy knew what he meant. Pansy was all too familiar with being pissed off at everything.   
“Pass the firewhisky.” Draco took the bottle and lifted it to his lips, only to find that it was completely empty. He tossed it onto the grass, ignoring the fact the in his head, he could hear Hermione’s voice scolding him for littering.  
Pansy slowly leant towards Draco, as his head turned towards her. They stared at each other, drunk and sad. Something about how angry at life they both were made it seem like it was the right moment to do something.  
Draco kissed her.  
It was quick and gentle, but Pansy’s heart swelled as they melted together. Before Pansy realized what was happening, Draco pushed her away and stood up.  
“I need to go.” He scratched the back of his head, looking flustered.  
“You probably should.” She nodded and looked down.  
“See you later.”   
“You too.”  
And in those two words, they decided that they would never speak about the kiss ever again.  
And they never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i did do that.  
> advice is pointless if you don’t follow it, so I have some bad advice to give you.  
> use rainman as an influence for when you date.  
> inject red bull into your blood stream when you get tired.  
> i’m like that guy on venice beach, except I do it for free, and im not funny.  
> i’m just unfortunate.


	5. Hermione Knows A Lot Of Things About A Lot Of Things

So here’s the thing. Hermione wasn’t a prude, or a suck up, or a know-it-all. Hermione just cared a lot about everything, including grades, and littering, and following the rules. Rules gave Hermione structure, and balance, and a guide.

When Hermione got her letter to Hogwarts, she saw it as a second chance. She would be popular, and loved. All she’d been waiting for, for her whole life, was for people to be impressed by her brains.   
So she worked her ass off.  
Every single day of the summer holidays, she would read through her textbooks, trying to memorize every word.  
Then she had her first lesson, and it all came crashing down.  
“Does anyone in here know what the levitation spell is? This will be a chance to see who’s been reading their textbooks,” Professor Flitwick paused, and looked around the room, “And who hasn’t.” He stopped at the table next to Herione’s, where a brunet Ravenclaw sat.  
“Um, sorry, sir, I don’t know.” He said quietly.  
“Anyone else know?” Flitwick asked.  
Hermione confidently put her hand up.  
When Flitwick called on her, she said “I believe it’s Wingardium Leviosa, sir.”   
“Correct, Miss…” He looked at the register “Miss Granger. Very correct indeed.”  
Hermione grinned to herself in pride, already planning the letter she was going to write to her parents-  
“Smart-ass.” The Ravenclaw mumbled.  
Hermione snapped to look at him.  
“What was that?” She whispered.  
“I said that you’re a smart-ass.” He hissed back.  
“Oh.” She looked at her desk.  
The next lesson, however, it happened again, and again, and again. Every time a correct answer slipped out of Hermione’s mouth, someone would mumble an insult of some kind.  
Smart-ass.  
Know-it-all.  
Nerd.  
Loser.  
Teacher’s pet.  
Geek.

But, Hermione being strong and determined, she didn’t stop getting things right. In fact, every night, in the common room, she would sit by the fire until long after everyone else had left, and read her textbooks. One evening, she was particularly tired, and went to bed, leaving her quills, parchment, and books, in the common room, planning to collect them the next morning.  
And she did.  
She threw the textbook into her bag, and didn’t notice that anything was wrong with it for the whole day. That was, until lunch. She pulled the book out of her bag, and opened it.  
Written in blue cursive, on the first page of the book, was the name Hermione Jean Granger. Except, the Jean had been scribbled out, and in bright red ink, it had been replaced with Smart-Ass.   
The words branded themselves into Hermione's mind. They burned into her very being. Whenever she put her hand up, or did a spell correctly, she’d hear it, even if there was only silence around her.  
Eventually, Hermione gave in.  
McGonagall was handing out papers, with various sounds coming from whoever she passed the marked test to, ranging from “Ha! I got an O, you owe me four chocolate frogs!” to “My parents are so gonna kill me.” Professor McGonagall didn’t look at Hermione as she dropped her paper in front of her, and as it fluttered onto her desk, Hermione saw just what she’d been hoping for.  
A ‘T’ was scribbled in the top right hand corner of the first page, and Hermione grinned on the inside.  
“Hey guys, looks like Brown-Noser’s got hers back. Tell us, is it a 99 or 98%?” Some kid and his friends turned to her.  
“A ‘T’, no big deal.” She displayed her test to them, shrugging.  
“I guess you’re not a brown-noser then.” One of them said before turning back to his friends.  
“Alright, you can go now. Don’t forget your essays due on Thursday!” McGonagall sat back down at her desk as the students began packing up their things. “Oh, except Granger.”   
Hermione slowly put her bag down as the others filed out.  
“What is it, professor?” Hermione asked as the last student left.  
“Come and sit here,” McGonagall gestured to one of the seats at the front. “It’s about your test.”  
“What about my test?” Hermione asked, sitting down.  
“You failed.”  
“I know. I saw my grade.”  
“The question is,” McGonagall said sternly. “Why?”  
“I suppose I just didn’t know enough about the topic.” Hermione lied.  
“Granger, you’re the only student in this class who I’m certain knows everything about the topic. You knew the answer to every single question on that test. So why did you fail?”  
Hermione sighed, slumping in her seat. She should have known she wouldn’t get away with it.  
“With all due respect, professor, you wouldn’t understand.”  
“Humor me.”  
“It’s just- people can be really mean. I want to do well, I really do, but the things they say-“  
“Hermione.” McGonagall interrupted. Her voice was soft, and it was the first time she’d called the girl by her first name, not including the sorting ceremony. “When you’re running the world, is what they say ever going to matter? You’ve got more brains then all of those kids put together.”  
“I don’t want to be smart, professor. I want to be liked.” Hermione protested.  
“Why on earth would you ever want to be liked by children who think it’s cool to be stupid?”  
Hermione thought about that question a lot. Four years later, she’d still hear it echoing in her mind when the occasional insult was thrown at her, now enhanced by swear words.  
But Hermione got an O on the next test, and the next one, and the one after that. 

Hermione wasn’t a prude, or a suck up, or a know-it-all, okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the worst things you can do, i think, is shit all over someone because youre angry at life.  
> just dont do it.


	6. Harry Potter Isn't Funny

Harry flicked through the pages of the magazine nonchalantly, half paying attention to the photos and articles as he listened to Draco talk.  
“And then she just dropped the whole dragonfly into my cauldron! Snape lost it, obviously, the desk turned to ash! Now there’s a massive burn mark at the bottom of my cauldron, which I only got like two months ago. Ugh, she’s such an idiot! I swear to god, if I have to be her partner ever again I will personally wrote a letter to Dumbledore himself.” Draco huffed, folding his arms.  
The two were sitting in the usual empty classroom, like they did every Thursday night, to finish up on homework, or in Harry’s case, read magazines and listen to Draco rant about something or other.  
“Wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” Harry laughed, flipping to the next page, a review of some metal album.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked defensively, scrunching his face up.  
“Nothing. It just wouldn’t be shocked if you wrote a letter to Dumbledore. It was just a joke.” Harry flipped the page again.  
“Yeah, I know it was a joke, but why wouldn’t you be surprised?”  
Harry out lowered the magazine and turned to Draco.  
“It’s just very Malfoy. Your dad does stuff like that all the time.”  
Draco suddenly looked very hurt, and Harry got a sick feeling at the bottom of his stomach.  
‘Are you trying to say that I’m like my father?”  
“I’m trying to say that you’re both part of the same family. Obviously you’re still different to him.” Harry desperately tried to justify his point. He’d just tried to make a joke; he hadn’t meant to upset Draco.  
“Whatever.” Draco said sharply. The hurt in his voice was replaced by anger. “Let’s just do the assignment.”  
Silence swallowed them whole as they put their heads down and started writing. Harry could’ve sworn the temperature dropped fifty degrees.  
Eventually, he spoke. “Y’know, I didn’t mean to make you mad. I was just trying to make a joke.” He said his words with great caution.  
Draco looked up.  
The air got thick.  
“Why don’t you just fuck off?”  
The words cut into Harry, making him sting.  
They wrote without talking again.

***

When Harry walked up to Hermione, Ron, and Seamus during lunch the next day, he told them about what had happened. Well, not entirely. He didn’t tell them about how he’d wanted to say something, anything, to make it alright, but Draco telling him to fuck off filled up his throat, and flooded his lungs, and suffocated him, because there was nothing left to say, he couldn’t say anything at all. He didn’t tell them about how he’d tripped on his own feet trying to get back to his dorm, because he felt like he’d pass out from nausea. He didn’t tell them about how he didn’t sleep the previous night. They didn’t ask.  
“Why would you compare him to his father? He hates him; you know that.” Hermione says, when Harry’s done.  
“I don’t know, okay? I just wanted to be funny.”  
Seamus spoke. “But Draco doesn’t like when people are being funny about his dad.”  
Harry turned to Ron. “He didn’t mind when you made that ‘Daddy Mlafoy’ joke at breakfast a few weeks ago. I assumed that it was fair game.”  
“”Ron was making fun of his dad, not comparing them to each other.” Hermione explained.  
“Plus my joke was funnier.” Ron tried to lighten the mood, only to receive Hermione kicking him under the table.  
“Ugh, I don’t know what to do.”  
Harry slumped in his seat.

***

It took Harry a few hours of pacing back and forth in his room so hard that there were track marks for him to come to a conclusion about how to fix what he’d done. When he hit his second hour, Dean dropped the book he was reading, and just screamed, “Harry, for the love of god, just go and apologize to your boyfriend! You’re driving me insane!”  
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Harry said.  
Dean threw the book at him.  
So now Harry was loitering outside the dungeons, at about ten at night, waiting for someone willing to let him in to walk past.  
Eventually, when Harry was just about ready to give up and go back to his own dorm, when he was hit by a stroke of luck.  
“Tracey!” He shot up as Tracey rounded the corner to come face to face with him. “Can you let me into the Slytherin dorms?”  
“Yeah, of course.” She said, looking a little puzzled. In her defense, Harry had just ambushed her, to some extent.  
“What are you doing walking round the castle anyway? It’s like ten o’clock.” Harry asked.  
“I don’t ask you why you’re trying to get into the Slytherin dorms, you don’t ask me what  
I’m doing walking around, deal?” She turned to the painting. “Merlin’s beard.”  
“Deal.” Harry said, as the painting opened reluctantly.

The Slytherin common room was drastically different to the Gryffindor one. For one thing. It was so much colder, not just physically, but the decorations just felt cold. The Gryffindor common room was warm and bright, draped in red and gold, and it was cozy, because the chairs were soft and the fire was hot. In Slytherin, however, it felt formal and cool. The armchairs and sofas were slim and elegant. Everything seemed expensive, with emerald colored, royal-looking rugs, and crystal artifacts sitting atop carefully carved bookshelves. Harry felt out of place, well, because he was.  
“Wait, Tracey, one more thing.” He said, and Tracey turned around to face him. “Where’s Draco’s dorm?”  
“Up those stairs and to the left.” Tracey said, before speeding off and disappearing behind a silver door.

Harry went headfirst into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like recently my end-note-things have been a little too serious, yknow?  
> because im not a serious person, believe me.  
> i mean I don’t laugh at funerals or anything  
> im not a sociopath I promise.  
> but if i was this would be a really good way to cover it up.


	7. Draco Isn't A Sinner

When Harry stepped into Draco’s room, he realized that he’d never actually seen it before. There were four beds in it, all with green sheets and bedspreads, and mahogany floorboards. The final thing he noticed was Draco, lying on the bed directly across the room from him, with an open book in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The cigarette, he noticed, on further inspection, was glowing green ever so slightly.

“Your cigarette is enchanted.” Were the first words that fell out of his mouth.

Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet his, before looking back down into his book.

“Yup.” He replied flatly.

Harry stared awkwardly at the floor, realizing he probably should have decided what to say before he came here.

After about a minute of silence, Draco spoke.

“It makes it so the smoke disappears.” 

“Huh?” Harry looked back up, to see Draco still reading.

“The enchantment. It makes it so the smoke disappears. And you can’t smell it or anything.” He demonstrated, taking a drag, holing it for a moment, and then breathing out. Smoke poured out like normal, before fading into the air, gone as soon as it appeared. 

“Oh. Cool.” Harry said, kicking himself for not having a better response.

Silence.

“So this is your room.”

“Yup.”

“That you share with Crabbe and Goyle.”

“And Zabini.”

“Oh, yeah, stupid.”

More silence.

“So what do you want?” Draco asked.

Harry took the opportunity. “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I did; you’re nothing like your dad. I’m really, really, sorry.”

Draco put down his book.

“You mean it?”

Harry nodded.

Before Harry could say anything else, Draco lunged at him, pulling him into a hug. Harry’s head sat on Draco’s shoulder, with his arms hanging around the taller boys neck. His breath hitched ever so slightly as Draco squeezed him, and suddenly felt claustrophobic.

He felt claustrophobic in a good way. In a don’t let me go way. In an I’ve never felt this close to you before, even though we’ve hugged a million times way. 

Harry also felt claustrophobic because Draco’s dorm room didn’t have any windows. It was like being inside a submarine, he thought, because his head felt like it was about to explode, and because they were under the lake.

“I shouldn’t have told you to fuck off.” Draco said quietly.

“I got over it.” Harry mumbled back.

Draco slowly let go of Harry’s robes and moved his head back, his hands still around Harry’s waist. Harry held his breath subconsciously as he tried not to notice Draco’s pupils flicking from his eyes to his lips and back again.

Harry closed his eyes.

***

Draco’s mouth tasted like Tabaco, despite the enchantment, and mint flavored gum.

Harry could only imagine that his tasted like sugar.

Draco’s hands clung desperately to Harry’s robes, his fingertips turning white, as their bodies tangled together, tripping over air as they tumbled back towards Draco’s bed. It wasn’t like the only kiss Draco had had before, with Pansy, last Christmas. The one they didn’t talk about. That one had been sad and gentle, with everything in slow motion. 

This, on the other hand. 

This kiss was burning Draco’s insides up, exploding inside of him like a million sticks of dynamite. It was made up of everything wrong that Draco had ever done, and all the things he’d convinced himself were right. It was made up of everything he’d regretted, as well as everything he wished he had done.

When Draco hit the sheets of his bed, it felt a lot more like he’d just smashed into a brick wall.

“Fuck, shit, oh fuck, oh my god.” He said, shoving Harry off of him. He shot back up, smoothing out his crumpled robes and trying to avoid looking Harry in the eye.

“Why’d you stop?” Harry seemed genuinely concerned as he frowned worriedly at Draco.

“I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this. You need to go.” Draco said hurriedly, trying to straighten out his bed sheets.

“Why?” Harry pressed.

“Because I’m not gay! I can’t be gay! So just leave already, will you?” Draco screamed, before turning away. He didn’t want to see Harry’s face because he knew the expression of pain that would be stuck to it.

Draco breathed heavily as harry turned and left, quietly closing the door behind himself.

Being gay was a sin, and Draco wasn’t a sinner.

***

Harry wasn’t exactly angry. He wasn’t sad either, during the weeks after the argument, where he didn’t say anything to Draco and Draco didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t feel betrayed, or let down, or like he wished he’d never kissed Draco in the first place.

He just felt empty. 

He felt like the moment his lips touched Draco’s, he’d scooped out his guts and dumped them on the floor, and when Draco had shouted at him, he’d left in a hurry and forgotten to collect them. Now his insides were rotting away on Draco’s mahogany floorboards.

It felt like he was walking around, living his life, with a hole on his body, stretching from his heart to his stomach, with blood leaking out all hours of the day. He’d pried his ribcage open and tugged out his lungs, and ripped out his intestines, and abandoned it all on Draco’s floor, and now he could never get it back.

It felt a lot like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i posted a day late  
> pls feel free to harrass me in the comments i sop that shit UP  
> one time i was tryna write ‘much love to u too’ while replying to a comment and i accidently wrote ‘much tove to u too’ and i noticed and corrected it but i kept thinking  
> what is tove  
> like what if i was like ‘here’s some fuckin tove enjoy’ and u were like ‘thx but what the fuck is tove’ and i was like ‘idk but here ya go much tove to u’  
> and i found this really fuckin funny so i told my friends about this and they were like ‘WHAT is tove rory why is this funny’ and then we all started laughing bc what is tove why am i giving u some  
> so now we just say tove  
> i love my friends


	8. Hogsmeade and/or The Aftermath- Part 1: The Darkness Gets It

Two months later. 

Life didn’t shift, and planets didn’t fall out of line, and the ocean didn’t dry up, after that. The world stayed the exact same, and it really, really hurt. Harry didn’t know what he’d expected. He hadn’t thought that Hogwarts would go up in flames, and he certainly hadn’t thought that everything would be normal.

And yet, it was. 

Except now, Draco paired up with Pansy and Harry paired up with Seamus whenever they had to get into partners for a project. And now, Draco sat away from harry at the table at lunch. And now, Draco didn’t look Harry in the eye if he could avoid it. And now, Draco did his homework in the Slytherin common room. And now, they didn’t say the word gay. 

It was like all of the tiny things that had kept Harry’s world spinning had dropped out of the sky and smashed at his feet, and no one knew anything about it because no one noticed it except for him.

So it was perfectly normal, but it was also falling apart.

***

“Hermione?” Harry said into the darkness.

“Yeah?” Hermione said back, also into the darkness.

The lake sat in front of them, the black water nipping at the toes of their shoes, the sand beneath them scratching at their backs.

“What’s happened to us?” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Me and Draco. We were fine last year, and all the years before that. And then suddenly everything’s gone to shit. We don’t talk for weeks, then as soon as we start again, we have an argument, and now this. It’s been months since we’ve really been friends.” Harry sighed. He wished the darkness would answer back. 

“You guys aren’t arguing now, are you? You’ve been acting totally normal.”

Normal. 

Harry closed his eyes.

“You don’t get it.”

“I want to get it, Harry, look at me.”

Harry turned to face Hermione, seeing only the shimmer of her eyes and the prefect bag on her robe. Somehow, he knew that she was looking back at him.

“Harry,” Hermione continued, “I know you’ve never really seen me as a best friend, but I’m always here for you, y’know. You were the first person I’ve ever met who understood me.” Harry heard Hermione take a deep breath. “And I know that you’ve been going through some tough stuff recently, so if you ever need to talk-“

“I kissed Draco.” Harry interrupted, before collapsing on the sand beneath him. He felt like he’d just let out air he’d held in his lungs since when his lips had met Draco’s.

“Is that why all this happened?” Hermione asked.

“I think so, mostly.”

Hermione listened in silence as Harry let out everything, telling her the whole story. 

“That felt so much less scary than I thought it would.” Harry let out a giggle, which turned into a laugh, which turned into hysterics.

“It’s the darkness.” Hermione grinned. “It gets it!”

***

“Luna!” Draco pulled his hat further down onto his head as he called after the girl. She was wandering around Hogsmeade with her eyes wide, like she was in awe. She turned to face him, grinning, as he ran up to her. It was freezing, with snowflakes tumbling down onto the town. December hadn’t been nearly this cold the previous year.

“Hey, Draco. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Luna said, her voice still dreamy, like she was mesmerized by her surroundings. 

“Yeah, like two months.” Draco said apologetically. He hadn’t been talking to her much since the thing that shall not be named, happened.

“This is wonderful, isn’t it?” Luna said, excited.

“What, you’ve never been to Hogsmeade before? You’re a fourth year, how didn’t you come here last year?” Draco asked,.

“I wasn’t allowed last year. I didn’t pass a test, so they couldn’t let me.”

A test? That was an odd reason not to let someone go to Hogsmeade. Draco ignored it and carried on.

“Do you want to go somewhere? It’s fucking freezing.” Draco shoved his hands into his coat pocket.

Draco led the way to The Three Broomsticks, which was practically overflowing with students. He kept a careful eye out for his friends, who he was currently avoiding. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be round them, it was just that Hermione had started giving him looks lately and he was starting to wonder if Harry had told her about the thing that shall not be named. He knew he was just being paranoid, though. Since the third year, it was a tradition that they spent the first day they were allowed to be in the Hogsmeade in the Shrieking Shack. Draco had ran off to use the bathroom, claiming he would be back in a few minutes, despite knowing he would only really come back at the end of the day.

The two squeezed into a tiny table in the corner of the pub, with his back pressed against Kiara Hennings in the seventh year, who was sitting in the table behind him. He signaled to a nearby waitress that he wanted two butterbeers She gave him a strange look before walking over to their table.

“How old are ya?” She said, whilst loudly chewing gum.

“Both fifteen.” He said quickly, before Luna could say anything. He held out four sickles.

“She don’t look fifteen.” The waitress nodded to Luna. She had an Essex accent.

“She’s fifteen, I swear.” 

The waitress raised her eyebrows, like she clearly didn’t believe him. 

“A fifteen year old would give me seven sickles.” She said. Draco tugged three more of the little silver coins out of his pocket and held them out. She gave a smug smile.

“Two butterbeers coming right up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically, i got sick last week.  
> so i didn’t post.  
> clearly.  
> a while ago, someone asked me to tell the story of the big pack of tic tacs.  
> so that’s what im gonna do.  
> basically, i love gum, and mints, and anything like that.  
> and i said to my friend, “i bet that i could eat like ten big packs of tic tacs in one day.”   
> because im real smart like that.  
> and he said “i seriously doubt that rory.”  
> so i bought ten big packs of tic tacs (sainsburys spon)  
> and i ate like seven of them by the time i got home.  
> and ate two more that evening.  
> but i hadn’t been keeping track of how many i’d eaten, bc that was a lot of tic tacs.  
> so then when i started writing, i was like “oh shit i should eat that i need to win this bet.”  
> and win the bet i did.  
> but it wasn’t really about tic tacs, u see.  
> it was about the PRINCIPAL.


	9. Hogsmeade and/or The Aftermath- Part 2: Questioning Yourself

“So, where’ve you been?” Luna leaned back in her chair, sipping at her butterbeer.

“What do you mean? I’ve been where I’ve always been.” Draco frowned at the question.

“Not like… Physically.” Luna waved her hands around at their surroundings. “I mean, where have you been in your mind?”

Draco looked around at the Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade locals that surrounded them. He wondered if they could answer the question, since he wasn’t sure if he could. No one had really asked him anything like that, or if they had, he hadn’t been listening, or hadn’t wanted to listen. He couldn’t avoid it anymore, with Luna staring at him from across the table.

“I’ve not been that great, lately, y’know. My friends don’t feel like the same people anymore.” He said quietly, hoping the noise in the pub would cover up his words.

Luna heard him. “Maybe you’re not the same person anymore.” She offered.

“Why would I have changed?” He asked.

“Self-discovery, growing up- you know better than me.” She shrugged, and Draco laughed. 

“So you think I’m the problem?” He said, not laughing anymore.

“No one’s the problem, Draco. You’re just not the same person you were last year, or before that.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a while, Draco unsure of what had to follow. Was he supposed to thank her or something?

He sighed.

***

As Draco made the trek up to the Shrieking Shack, he replayed his and Luna’s conversation again and again in his mind. He kicked at the snow, making white clumps fly up at him, sprinkling on to his face.

When he reached the Shack, he began to hear the strained sound of rock music; his friends were definitely in there.

He threw open the door, and was hit not only by ‘About a Girl’ by Nirvana, but also Ron’s weight, which had been launched at him. A mess of red hair was shoved into his face as the boy almost knocked him over with a hug.

“Gay!” Tracey called out, pointing at them from halfway up the stairs, where she sat, with Pansy.

“How mature.” Draco retorted, shoving the clearly intoxicated Ron off of him.

The shack looked exactly like it had every year since they’d started going. Hermione sat cross-legged on the beat up couch with a book covering most of her face, while Seamus leant on the couch, fiddling with the radio. Tracey and pansy were leaning over the banisters on the stairs, with a bottle of firewhisky between them.

“Not to pry, put you said you were going to the toilet and you were gone for an hour.” Seamus said, looking a little worried.

“Did you just take the longest shit in the world or what?” Hermione looked up from her book.

“I got caught up with something.” Draco glanced around, a frown forming on his face. “Where’s Harry?”

“Upstairs, doing god know’s what.” Seamus shrugged.

Draco jogged past Pansy and Tracey, up the rickety stairs, hearing Ron call after him, “Hey, tell us if he’s wanking!”

Draco knocked cautiously on the bedroom door, before pushing it open, causing it to creak. Harry was lying on the bed, on his back, wish a book in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

“Hey.” He climbed onto the bed, to lie down next to him. “Y’know, you shouldn’t smoke indoors. ‘Specially when this house is made of wood.”

Harry put down his book. “Would you care less if I shared it with you?”

Draco silently nodded as he took the cigarette and took a drag of it. “What’s been going on with us recently?” He leant his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I don’t know… I’ve just been- I guess- questioning myself a lot recently.” Harry shrugged.

“Questioning yourself?”

Harry seemed like he was about to say something, before stopping himself. Eventually, he whispered. “I’m sorry for kissing you. Because that’s why I’m questioning myself.”  
“Don’t be sorry.”

“You clearly didn’t like it.”

Draco sighed. “I was scared because I did like it.”

“So you were questioning yourself?”

Draco slowly looked up at Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> click here to become a victim of systemic bullying for only $9.99 a month !!


	10. Hogsmeade and/or The Aftermath- Part 3:Decisions, Decisions

If Draco was asked to recount the moments between looking up and feeling a gentle kiss pressed against his lips, he wouldn’t be able to. One moment their eyes met, then the next, Harry lifted a hand to place on Draco’s cheek, then the next their lips were touching, then the next Draco felt himself go a little insane.

Harry’s tongue was sliding into his mouth, pressing against his own, dancing across his teeth, and then Draco was pulling the shorter boy on to him.

Harry’s hands slipped under his hoodie, with cold fingers melting into Draco’s hot skin. Draco couldn’t help but let out a small gasp- nothing more than a breath of surprise, into Harry’s mouth, at the touch. Harry’s hands kept roaming around under his shirt, the feeling of ice burning into Draco’s skin. Draco grasped at Harry’s hair, tangling his finger sin jet-black locks. His fingernails dug into Harry’s back as they made their way down his neck, under his shirt, onto his shoulder blades. Harry, meanwhile, was prying at the waistband of Draco’s boxers, tugging at it.

“Fuck-“ Draco choked up, all senses snapping into reality as Harry’s hands pulled at his underwear. The only thoughts that seemed to register in his mind were ‘his fingers are cold, his fingers are so fucking cold’ and ‘ohgodohgodohgodohgod’.

Draco felt himself getting hard as Harry wrapped his hand around his dick, breathing heavily into his mouth, like he was freaked out. I’m-about-to-faint-breathing.

“Harry?” Draco used all of his willpower to pry his lips from Harry’s, pushing the shorter boy away.

“Yeah?” Harry’s eyes opened in confusion, his hand letting go of Draco’s dick immediately, and instead levitating with Draco’s waistband resting against it.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Harry’s face crinkled in even further confusion. “I know I don’t have to do this. I want to.”

Draco sighed. “Let me rephrase that-you don’t want to do this.”

“’Course I do. I really want to, Draco. Do you not want to?”

“No, no.” Draco said quickly. “Believe me, I want to do this. It’s just- we’re not even dating.”

Harry slumped beside him.

Draco continued. “I mean, if we’re gonna have sex, let’s at least do it when we have some sort of relationship, and all our friends aren’t below us, and we’re not on this dumb bed.”

Harry let out a small chuckle. “Is this bed not honeymoon quality?”

They both laughed, looking around at the old, falling apart bed that probably hadn’t been slept in approximately since the Saxons invaded Britain.

“I think I’ll pass up on it, although it does seem like it’s riddled with all sorts of fun diseases.” Draco smirked.

Harry stared at the ceiling, his eyes following the cracks that spread out and across it, like the branches of a tree.

“Why don’t we date then?”

Draco frowned. “You want to date so we can have sex? How desperate are you?” He laughed, enjoying teasing Harry.

Harry rolled over, to face Draco again.  
“I want to date so that we can admit that we like each other, and this can all stop being so weird.” 

Draco thought carefully. Yes, he liked Harry- of course he did- but what if none of this worked out? What if Harry turned around one day and said ‘hey, you like me, and that’s cool and all, but I’m not gay’? What if the whole situation got even more weird and awkward?

What if they broke up?

“Okay then.” Draco said, ignoring each and every ‘what if’ that flung itself at him.

“So now that we’re dating… The bed doesn’t look so bad anymore, does it?” Harry smirked.

“No it doesn’t. What could we possibly do in a bed?”  
“I’m not sure, what do you think?”

“I have a couple of ideas.”

And for the first time in while, with Harry pulling him into a kiss, Draco felt like everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was my obligatory hiatus of several months.  
> can i be real with u guys for a second?  
> if u want to just skip over this sad bit and get back 2 funfunfun, thats chill, look at this cool emoticon !! -> *u*  
> the rest of u guys, if ur reading, i just wanna like... talk for a lil bit about how ive been feeling lately?  
> ive just felt so shitty, since like, christmas. most days im just really unsatisfied (?) with life.   
> like i just feel like im not me anymore? i dont like waking up, and i dont like doing /anything/ except for maybe lying in bed. its just.. ugh? i dont feel motivated by anything, not even writing, which is why i put off posting this for so long. believe it or not, despite being one of the shortest, and probably weakest chapters in this whole thing, ive been trying to force myself to write this almost every day 4 almost two months, i just like, open my laptop and star at itand then give up. idk man.  
> sorry for being all sad and probs making u sad.  
> slightly offbeat endnotes will b back next week, hopefully.


	11. What Draco Learnt About Love

Sometimes, in life, you end up exactly where you started. This was the case for Draco when he looked up from his essay at his new boyfriend, bathed in moonlight, lip bitten in focus. There was something so magical about the night in an empty classroom, with no one to watch you or judge you. In this quiet, he found that he could sometimes even quiet the voices in his head that promised him a secure spot in hell.  
“What are you looking at?” Harry asked, looking up from his parchment to smirk at Draco.  
“You.” Draco replied without hesitation. It was like the anchor that had buried itself at the bottom of his stomach for so many years had finally been lifted.  
Harry made an overly dramatic pout and combed a hand through coal-black hair. “Like what you see?”  
“You wish.” Draco stuck his tongue out.  
So much can change in three months. It felt like it had been ten years since Harry had first asked the terrifying words, ‘Why don’t we date then?’ on the bed in the shrieking shack, and in that time, Draco had been the best he’d ever been, and also the worst.   
There had been days where he’d held Harry’s face between his two hands and pulled him in for a kiss, with his heart slamming against his ribcage in the nicest way possible.   
There had also been days when he had cried himself to sleep after receiving a letter from his oblivious father, just because of the knowledge that if he weren’t so unaware of his son’s sexuality, the letter would be a howler.   
There had been moments when Harry had leant his head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply as they stared into the blackness of the lake, and Draco had been so happy he could have begun weeping, right there.  
There had also been moments when Draco had woken up in cold sweat, unable to breathe, trying to keep quiet as he choked on his own lungs.  
It was a mixed bag.  
But then again, when had it not been?  
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” Harry asked, the ‘I want to take you out’ was implied.  
“Your mum.”  
“You don’t even know my mum.”  
Draco snorted. “Everyone knows your mum, mate.”  
Harry playfully punched him in the shoulder, before unwrapping another caramel and popping it into his mouth. “Come on, I’m serious. I thought we could take a walk or something.” He said through a full mouth.  
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” Draco smiled.  
That had changed too, in the time since Christmas. Back when he and Harry had been fighting, after the first kissing incident, all of his smiles had felt forced. It wasn’t like he was never happy, it was just that in that time, he had never once thrown his head back and grinned. Harry was the only person who could get him to do that.  
Sometimes, in life, you end up exactly where you started. Where it started, for Draco and Harry, was in an empty classroom, just before two am.  
And Draco was very slowly staring to learn, that even in you end up where you started, it wasn’t always a bad thing.

***

Things had been perfect. Things had been so, so perfect, and Draco should have known better.  
Pansy was standing in his doorway.  
“Hey, I’ve got to leave in like ten minutes for my date, did you want to History of Magic notes?” Draco asked, only briefly looking up at her as he scrambled around the room, trying to find a clean pair of socks.  
“Draco, we need to talk.” Pansy’s voice was dead serious.  
“Huh? Yeah, sure.” Draco hurriedly looked up at her.  
Pansy took a deep breath, and Draco could almost see her calculating what she was going to say in her head.  
“I’m in love with you.” She blurted out.  
Draco dropped his sock.  
The world shattered.  
“What?”  
Pansy sat down in his desk chair, refusing to look directly at him. “And I just- I have to know.” She paused. “Do I have a chance?”  
Draco felt the anchor returning to his stomach. The clock on the wall told him he had eight minutes until his date. Eight minutes to clean up a mess he started at the Yule Ball, because he was drunk, and stupid, and in love. Love makes people do all sorts of dumb shit. Love has killed more people than war ever could.  
“I’m sorry.” He could only choke out. “I’m with Harry.”  
“And if you weren’t with him?”  
“I think I would still be in love him.”  
Pansy nodded, as though she had expected the answer.  
She had always known it, really.  
“I’m sorry.” Draco repeated, as though the words had any real meaning.  
“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just.” She nodded in the direction of the door, “Have fun on your date.”  
“Pansy,” Draco grabbed her as she opened it, pulling her into a tight hug. Not a hug like he would hug Harry, but a sort of ‘I know we’re both holding on for dear life here’ hug. The hug you give when both parties know that they are screwed. “I’ve never deserved you as a friend. Thank you.”  
He felt her sob quietly against his shoulder, and they stayed that way as the minutes until the date shrunk to two.  
“I hope Harry makes you happy, Draco. You don’t think you deserve to be happy, but you do, I swear.” She whispered, her voice muffled in his shirt.   
Pansy was in love, and that meant she wanted Draco to be happy. Even without her. Even without her.  
The things we do for the people that we love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been almost a year since i last updated this.  
> sorry if the style is different, or the characters after different, but that is because i am different.  
> things have changed a fuckton.  
> but writing makes me happy, so here ya go.  
> i hope this made you happy.

**Author's Note:**

> when i wrote these several thousand words, i was in the process of consuming an entire big pack of Tic Tacs (quietly, so i didn't get in trouble because this was at an unholy hour)  
> and i was thinking about that one episode of the simpsons when Homer has narcolepsy and blames everything on it. like homer was such an asshole why did he still have a wife and friends and stff.  
> also, in science, i think i might have accidentally eaten some concentrated citric acid.  
> and my foot went numb when i was trying to stand up so i squashed some poor girl by just falling.
> 
> so then i wrote this.
> 
> and im not really sure why.


End file.
